Love Drugged (13 page)

As the School Board members arrived, Ivan and I lingered near the door like servants awaiting instructions. They took their muffins and juice, smiling as if they knew us. After they disappeared into a classroom, Ivan and I backed into the hallway and sat on the floor. Side by side, two feet apart. I could feel his body heat next to me. And his after-shave again—orange, cinnamon, and something else.

Thank God for the pill.

He whispered, “Now we wait.”

“Yup.”

“And you—have you always lived in Chicago?”

“Yup.”

“In the same house?”

“No, different.” I thought of the bedroom I’d had in our old place, before we moved in with my grandparents. A second-floor sunroom, three walls of windows. Different world, different boy.

I let some time pass, not sure which topics to raise. We were two years apart, with none of the same classes.

Say something!

“Do you shave every day?” I asked.

He rubbed his jaw with a rueful smile. “Yes, unfortunately.”

I couldn’t wait to start shaving. Shaving seemed like an essential part of a masculine life. “That’s too bad,” I agreed.

“Tell me about Celia,” he said.

I leaned forward, smiling at my shoes, and wondered why he would ask. “She’s incredible. So funny and smart. Don’t you think?”

He nodded. “Is she your girlfriend or just a friend?”

“Girlfriend, for sure. But we’re still getting to know each other. I’ve never had a girlfriend before. Is Anella your girlfriend?”

“No. I have known her so long. She’s like my sister. You know, she is a very good girl.”

When he called Anella a
girl,
it struck me as funny. She was so mature for her age, too sophisticated in her demeanor to ever seem girlish to me. At club meetings, she gave the impression of belonging in the real world rather than in high school.

“Do you have a different girlfriend?” I asked.

“No.”

This seemed impossible. Such handsomeness, such sweetness.

He cleared his throat. “So, can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t have many friends at Maxwell. Besides Anella.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded.

“Me neither,” I said. “I guess it’s not the friendliest place. It’s too big.”

“Maybe—” he began, and then stopped. He was shy. “Maybe we should hang out sometime. Away from school.”

The hallway suddenly seemed very quiet. Could he hear the pounding of my heart? I bent to examine the sole of my tennis shoe, as if the dusty zigzag pattern contained hidden mysteries.

“Unless you’re busy,” he added.

“No. Yeah, that would be okay.” Now the other shoe. “And do what?”

“I don’t know. Do you like soccer?”

“Sure. I mean, I don’t play it, or watch it on TV or anything.”

He gave me a forgiving smile. Again, I was glad for the pill. But now the familiar side effect had returned, the line of pain across my forehead that would last all day. By nightfall, when I lay in bed, wide-awake and dreamless, my shoulders would ache as well.

“What do you like to do?” I asked.

He grinned. “To be outside, definitely. In the summer, I like to sail. Two years ago, my dad bought a used sailboat. He split the cost with Anella’s dad and another family. Not a fancy boat, just twenty-four feet, two sails. We can’t even sleep on it. But we take it out on Lake Michigan every summer day we can.”

“Cool,” I said.

My mind flashed back to the second mysterious flower, with Van Gogh’s cryptic message:
Fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storms terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.

Was it Ivan, after all, who’d sent the two secret messages? Did we both have crushes—on each other? No, this was impossible. So why did I feel the same surge of fear that I’d experienced earlier, when I was alone in the dark corridor?

“Maybe this summer,” he said, “we can take you sailing.”

“I … I like movies,” I said, trying to change the subject.

He smiled gamely. “Okay, me too. We could get a group together. See a movie.”

I lowered my gaze to the floor. The thing was, I could not spend time with Ivan, even as a friend. I was already down an alternate path with Celia. I wasn’t going to repeat past mistakes. I’d worked too hard. And now I was out of pills.

“I like
old
movies,” I clarified.

“Yeah?”

“Scary ones, mostly.”

“Excellent.”

“I could lend you one sometime.”

“Oh, thank you. That would be nice.” His expression finally registered my meaning. Slowly he turned from me and faced forward.

Sorry, buddy, I need to play it safe. Nothing personal.

Awkward minutes of silence passed, and then the grown-ups began to emerge from their meeting, looking for pastry and juice. We jumped to our feet to attend to them. The break lasted fifteen minutes. We kept the platters filled. We collected the abandoned plates and cups and deposited them in the trash can. Ivan was all business, smiling at the Board members and not looking at me.

I felt bad for rejecting him. Not guilt. I felt a weird, unexpected …
loss.
It was like when I stopped emailing my Internet friends.
Click, delete, gone.
The suddenness of the sacrifice was harsh. But, I reminded myself, sometimes when the body had a diseased organ that threatens the rest, the damaged part has to go. Just like that—
gone.
Painful but necessary.

“Ready to start cleaning up?” I asked Ivan. I tried to make my voice cheerful.

He nodded, but kept his eyes on the pitchers of water. He seemed distant now, staring at the water but seeing something much farther away.

fifteen

I needed more pills. The ones I had taken were long gone, and now I faced a week in Mexico with Celia. While I knew exactly where to find more, getting my hands on them presented the challenge of metal doors and the lab staff, including friendly Dr. Gamez himself.

I called Celia. “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“Packing.” She sighed contentedly. “Thinking about our adventure together.”

“Me too. Can I come and see you? I’ll help you pack.”

“That’s sweet. But I don’t want you to see my swimsuit until we get there.”

“I don’t care about that,” I said, which was completely the truth.

“Well, I do. Besides, in about an hour, I’m leaving to get my hair cut.”

“I just want to spend some time with you before we go.”

“Wow,” she said. She wasn’t used to this version of me. “If you come right away, we can have maybe thirty minutes together.”

“Great!” I said, jumping up. “I’m leaving now.”

I flew out of the house and ran to Western Avenue. The ten minutes I had to wait for a bus seemed like forever. When I got to Celia’s neighborhood, I called her from my cell so she could meet me at the front door. I found her there grinning, with her arms folded. “Gee, someone’s acting uncharacteristically romantic today.”

“You bet.” I leaned forward to give her a kiss.

“Not here,” she said, pushing me away. “My dad might see.”

I followed her inside and up the staircase to her bedroom. She closed the door and we kissed. All the adrenaline I’d built up racing to her house had made me sweaty. It felt nice to stop and hold her.

She’d lit a candle before I arrived, so the bedroom smelled like vanilla and coconut. I’d been in there only once before. It was a large corner room, painted soft green and pale yellow. In addition to the standard bed and dresser, she had substantial furniture—a grown-up desk, an overstuffed chair with an ottoman. On the walls, museum prints showcased the Getty Museum in California, the Tate Gallery in London, and the Prado in Madrid. These were mounted in real frames with glass, not just taped up like the movie posters in my bedroom. This was the room of someone who took her life seriously. When would Celia realize that she was
way
out of my league?

She pulled me down next to her on the bed, between the open suitcase and the pillows. “So, why are you really here?”

“To see you.”

“Stop lying or I won’t kiss you.”

“Okay, the thing is—here’s the deal.” I took a couple breaths, my mind racing. “I’m nervous about flying.”

Her head fell back with a laugh. “You’ve never flown before? That’s so cute!”

“I wish I saw it that way.”

“Flying is no big deal. You take your assigned seat, strap yourself in, turn on your music, and fall asleep. In no time flat, you’re in another country and the vacation begins.”

“Yeah, it’s the
strapping yourself in
part that makes me nervous. As if there’s a real possibility you could crash.”

“The whole experience is boring, actually,” she said. “You’ll see.” While listing the tedious aspects of air travel, she got up and returned to her clothes. I liked watching her pack, the way she created such neat, economical bundles. Compared to mine, her clothes were so tiny, stacks of pink and white squares, blue and yellow triangles. I fell into a kind of trance, far more interested in her wardrobe than was probably appropriate. I almost forgot the purpose of my visit.

“So relax, you’ll be fine.” She gave me a naughty grin and said huskily, “Honey, I guarantee, once you’ve done it the first time, you’ll want to do it again and again.”

To get the pills, I needed to be out of that bedroom and downstairs, closer to the lab. I stood. “I’m thirsty. Can I run downstairs and get us some drinks?”

“Sure, let’s go.”

I put my palms up like a snowplow. “You’re swamped with packing. I’ll be two minutes.”

She shrugged. “Hurry back.”

In ten seconds, I was down the hall and at the foot of the main staircase. The house always seemed empty. I never saw anybody except Celia, her father, and now and then a white-haired cleaning woman named Beatrice, who hummed while she worked and never greeted me. In fact, she never even seemed aware of us. “Don’t take it personally,” Celia whispered once. “Beatrice is on a mission.”

Near the kitchen, I stopped at the big, white, metal door that I knew led to the laboratory. I peered through the small glass window in the door and didn’t see anybody in the corridor beyond. I pulled the handle, guessing it would be locked. It didn’t even budge.

Crap.

Next to the door, below eye level, there was a security keypad. I remembered what Celia had said, that the password for the house security system was her birthday. This one was probably the same. But all I knew was that her birthday was in November. Did I really have time to punch in all thirty combinations?

Idiot. Mr. Never Prepared. Do your damn homework!

I went into the kitchen and grabbed two Diet Cokes from the refrigerator. I had just closed the heavy, stainless steel door when I noticed a briefcase sitting on a barstool at the counter. It looked like Dr. Gamez’s black briefcase—the same one I always saw with him—but I couldn’t be sure. How many briefcases did most men have? My dad, as far as I knew, didn’t even have one. But he didn’t have a normal job, not like other dads. Dr. Gamez didn’t have a normal job either. Maybe Dr. Gamez had a dozen briefcases, one for each different project he worked on.

Well, no harm in taking a quick look.

I stepped lightly across the room and set down the soda cans. I lifted the briefcase to the counter and snapped open the two locks, mindful of the noise. I froze.

Anybody hear that?

Beatrice’s vacuum cleaner began groaning, nearly howling, in another room.

The briefcase lid lifted with a smooth glide and clicked into the open position. Black silk lining, leather loops holding expensive-looking pens, all very elegant. The main compartment held half a dozen manila folders and oversized envelopes. No brown drug bottles like the one Dr. Gamez had with him at the coffee shop, but there were several clear plastic bags, smaller than anything my grandmother ever used. I saw a variety of pills, none of them blue. I could only imagine taking the wrong drug and sprouting enormous breasts or unwanted body hair.

Hey there, ole hairy face! Nice jugs!

With a bongo drum playing in my chest, I bypassed the pills and looked at the folders. One of the labels said,
Rehomo—notes
.

I removed this folder and it flipped open randomly. The page showed a printed list of names and contact information, all doctors, all over the world: Manila, Milan, Mexico City. I flipped to another page. More doctors, more cities: Sarajevo, Stockholm, Sydney, Taipei. Then pages and pages of handwritten notes—a nearly unintelligible scrawl. I tried to make out the meaning, but few words and phrases were decipherable:
“… essential …” “… cannot change the patient unless …” “… only alleviate …” “… potentially lethal …”

Lethal.

My eyes stopped hard on the word.

I heard a noise. Someone was approaching. I dumped the folder back into the briefcase. When I tried to close the case, the hinge remained stuck in an open position. Frantically I attempted to unfasten the stupid thing.

“
Goodness sakes
, what is taking
sooooo
long?” Celia’s playful voice rattled the silence as she shuffled down the hallway. The case was still wide open when she got to the kitchen. She skidded to a halt at the door.

“Hey there,” I said. Then the hinge-lock gave way, and the lid closed automatically under my hand.

Her eyes went slowly from me to the briefcase, then back to me. “What are you doing?”

I felt myself blush. “Sorry, I don’t know. I just saw this.” It wasn’t an explanation, just the truth. “It was sitting here.”

Her face broadcast her confusion, and she folded her arms. “It belongs to my dad, obviously. What were you doing with it?”

I made myself smile. “I’m so embarrassed. I wanted to see what it looked like inside.”

“Surprise, it’s a briefcase.”

“I know, but my dad has never had one.” I lifted my hands, searching for words. “And I wouldn’t mind getting him a classy one. To show I believe in his new package business.”

She remained silent, looking concerned.

“Yeah, this one is really sharp.” I stroked the edge of the case appreciatively, to underscore my point. “Classy, you know?”

“Jamie, be honest.” She came closer. She didn’t look angry now, just serious. “Were you … you know, looking for money?”

“Is that what you think?”

Her hand went to my shoulder. “Were you? You can tell me.”

As she touched me, the fear released its own grip on my shoulders. “Celia, look at this.” I opened my wallet and showed her the thirty dollars I’d taken from my parents’ cash box. “I’ve got plenty of cash right here. And more at home.”

Her expression softened, relieved. “Really?”

I nodded and put my wallet away.

Her own face reddened. “Now I’m embarrassed. I just figured … we’re leaving soon, and I thought maybe you were worried about not having enough money.”

“You told me not to worry about that.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t insulted you.”

“Forget about it,” I said, smiling. “Let’s grab the sodas and go back upstairs.”

Fifteen minutes later, Celia left for her hair appointment and I left without any pills. I wondered if I’d spent enough time with Celia already to make it through Spring Break without them. Maybe after eleven pills, my body had been conditioned to be comfortable around girls—to respond like any other boy. Maybe some gays had to take only one round of the pills to become straight.

Yeah, right.
I was an idiot.

When I was on the bus, my cell phone rang. Wesley. We arranged to meet in Warren Park, a sprawling, flat park that was located between our houses. We had a favorite spot—an isolated bench far away from the tennis courts and picnic tables. We never could figure out why they’d put a bench so far away from the action, but in elementary school we’d spent many late afternoons there on our way home, plotting to take over the world with a loyal army of robotic squirrels.

He got there before me. “Look at this, they’ve got swings here now!”

“
Woo-hoo!
Let’s swing!” I jumped onto the one next to him. It was a long rubber swing that wasn’t designed for butts my size. It pinched my hips. But it was fun to be alone with Wes for once.

He said, “So you’re leaving at the end of the week? South of the border? Promise me you’ll extend my best wishes to my people.”

“I’ll try to bring back some sun for you.”

“You are one fortunate fellow—off to a private resort with a beautiful girl. All expenses paid.”

“I agree. And I owe it all to you and your encouragement.”

“You bet your ass you do. I’ll expect payback in the future.”

“Only fair.”

He slowed his pace. “Guess what? I took my last pill this morning.”

“Really? Still going through with that plan?”

He nodded. “I feel good about it. Baseball tryouts begin the day we get back from break. At that point, my body should be completely drug free.”

“I don’t know, Wes. It makes me nervous. I remember what you were like back then.”

“I was a bratty kid, that’s all. I’m more mature now.”

“I still think you should tell your parents first.”

“Dude, relax. You’re going to Mexico with your girlfriend and you’re not telling your parents.”

“That’s completely different! I’m not putting anyone’s health at risk.”

He shrugged. “Me neither.”

“My fear is that you’ll get all Jekyll-and-Hyde on us. Let the record show, I like you the way you are now. Safely medicated.”

“Listen, if going off them doesn’t work, I’ll start taking them again. Right? What’s the risk?”

I nodded, kicking at the powdery dirt under the swings. He sounded so reasonable. I hoped what he said was true.

“Jamie, two minutes ago we agreed that you owed me, remember? So give me this. Give me your support.”

“I’m trying to.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

Later, walking home, I was struck by how unfair it was that the universe had given Wesley an amazing drug he didn’t even want while it denied me access to the one essential drug I really needed.

Stupid universe.